Gordon returns to the living room.
Betsy is knitting. Grampa is sitting in his chair.
Grampa: Hey Timmy.
Betsy: It's Gordon, Grampa.
Grampa: Okay Timmy.
Gordon: Hon, there's a human head in the freezer?
Betsy: I know. I found it out in the yard. I thought I might make something out of it.
Gordon: Make something?
Betsy: Sure like a planter or something. Maybe a hummingbird feeder
Gordon: It's someone's head?
Betsy: Oh, they turn up all the time.
Gordon: [starts sniffing] Hon, your father is smelling a bit ripe.
Betsy: My father? My father died before I ever met you.
Gordon: Well, my dad's been in prison for the past 30 years.
Betsy: If he's not your father or mine, who the hell is this silly old coot we've been living with?
Grampa: I've pooped me britches.
[To be continued]